(Food) Sexual Healing [Single White Nerd]

Do you remember the first time you called a 1-900 sex chat line? I do. I was 12 years old. A friend had come over for dinner and I nonchalantly asked my parents if we could call a 900 number advertised on a business card that some entrepreneurial soul had slid under our windshield wiper. “Purely,” I said, “because, I mean, it’s funny.” I was smooth like that.

My folks, once again flaunting their unorthodox approach to parenting, agreed to cover the cost. My friend and I went upstairs and held the phone receiver between us. We dialed the number. We listened to the recorded menu of options and, not quite up to the challenge of actual live phone sex, opted to listen to a pre-recorded story. It consisted mostly of a woman moaning things like “You’re so much bigger than my husband!”. We pretended not to be turned on as we held our heads millimeters apart over the ear-piece. I wonder what my parents were thinking downstairs.

Anyway. I was thinking about that 900-number moment the other day (I’m honestly not sure why) and I realized that now-me would probably be significantly less turned on than then-me had been. Forgetting the fact that the internet has put the 900-number industry out of business, moany noises transmitted over fiber-optic cables just don’t hold the same allure as they once did. You know what would get me in a lather, though?

Food Phone Sex.

Here’s how it works, you call 1-900-FOOD-SEX. The menu comes on the line, delivered in a sensual, yet classy voice:

“Thank you for calling. I always knew you were a true goumand. If you’d like to make appetizers, press one. Salad course, press two. Entree, press three. If you’re feeling a little sweet, press four to enter the dessert kitchen. And if your appetite is up to it, press 5 for the full tasting menu. I look forward to serving you. . .dinner.”

You press one because time is short. After a brief hold, your selected chef comes on the line.

Food Sex Operator (FSO): Oh my goodness! I didn’t see you there; how did you get into my kitchen?

You: Ummm. I–

FSO: It doesn’t matter. I can tell that you like to watch. You do like to watch, don’t you?

You (licking your lips): I do.

FSO: I’m getting ready for a biiiiiiiiig party. So many appetizers to prepare. Would you like to help? And maybe. . .taste?

You: Boy would I!

FSO: Ooops. I dropped a fig. Can you pick that up for me? Do you feel how ripe it is? It is so firm, ready to pop with deliciousness.

You: So. Ripe.

FSO: You know what we’re going to do with that fig?

You: Make a jam?

FSO: Ooooh. I love jam. But this is the appetizer kitchen. That’s more of a snack.

You: Oh. Sorry.

FSO: No, baby. That’s ok. We can make jam later. Right now, though, I want to stuff that fig.

You: You do?

FSO: With goat cheese.

You: Oh my god.

FSO: From my free range goat. I made it myself.

You: That is SO sustainable.

FSO: I know baby. Watch this: I’m stuffing that fig now. See how that cheese just goes right in?

You: I bet it’s sweet and salty.

FSO: It is. You know what’s even saltier?

You: What?

FSO: This slice of prosciutto. I’m gonna wrap it around the fig. Nice and tight. Can you see that bundle of perfection?

You: Oh my god. SO SUCCULENT!

FSO: And now a drizzle of balsamic reduction. Just a. . .few. . .drops. . .

You: Yeah. Drizzle that. Oh. . .oh. . .

FSO: Do you want a taste? Taste it. TASTE THE PROSCIUTTO WRAPPED FIG!

You: MMMMMMMMMMMM!

And so on.

It would only cost a dollar a minute. Significantly less than an actual gourmet meal with all of the same sensual allure. Well, almost all. Because you wouldn’t get to eat the food. That’s an additional charge–door to door delivery of food timed to arrive just as you’re finishing your call.

I’m not sure what it says that, at this point in my life as a single nerd, the prospect of a good meal is a bit more exciting than the promise of tawdry sex. Best not to examine that too closely. Instead, I’ll spend the time ogling food blogs and imagining an apron-clad cook gently stirring a demi-glace. Bon appetit!

Do you have a favorite recipe or restaurant that gets your motor running? Share it in the comments. Because I’m always looking for new sources of. . .stimulation.

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featured image credit: Laurence Vagner